Enslaved By Knowledge
by targaryenemperor
Summary: Years after the events of Skyrim, the Dragonborn, a Nord named Rasmund, became High King. He married a beautiful Imperial woman and now, as she was pregnant, he was ready to be a father. However, a prophecy of the Greybeards told that in order for Tamriel to be saved, the child must die. What would the Dragonborn do in order to save his son? I do not own ES and I await reviews :)
1. Prologue

Whiterun, the center of commerce in Skyrim. Much has changed since Alduin, the World Eater, has been defeated. The great civil war between the Empire and the Stormcloaks escalated after Ulfric's conquest of Solitude. The Thalmor sent their mightiest warriors against the Nords. For two years, the Empire and Skyrim fought an atrocious and highly destructive battle for supremacy and everything was going well for the Imperials, backed by their Thalmor allies. They managed to take control of most of the southern Skyrim, installing puppet Jarls in Falkreath, Markarth and Riften and executing the old ones. Ulfric Stormcloak had no choice but to retreat to secure the holds that still remained under his control. With the Imperial army advancing towards Whiterun and laying waste to every settlement in its path, many nobles allied with Ulfric tried to convince their High King to sue for peace. But the stubborn Nord refused and decided to meet the Imperials in battle outside Whiterun.

Many songs will be sung about this battle, dubbed _The Glory at Whiterun_ by the citizens of Skyrim. The Thalmor, however, would have another name for it: _The Shame in Skyrim_. In the beginning, it was a massacre. Five thousand Nords were killed during the first engagement between the two armies. Among the victims, laid Ulfric Stormcloak himself, killed by a flurry of arrows loosed upon him by Bosmer rangers. The remaining Stormcloaks were ready to surrender until a sound was heard, music to the Nords' ears but poison to the ones of the Thalmor invaders. A warrior with long, blond hair and blue eyes, armed with a sword in one hand and an axe in the other emitted a Shout, Kynareth's gift to humans. The power of the man's Thu'um summoned a mighty dragon from the snowy peaks of the Throat of the World. The dragon pulverized the Thalmor army and the warrior, who was none other than the Dragonborn, restored the morale of the Stormcloak one. Nine thousand Thalmor perished that day and all their other garrisons in Skyrim were destroyed one by one in the coming months. In the end, the Empire had to admit their defeat and a peace treaty was signed at Solitude by the Imperials, the Nords and the Thalmor: Skyrim declared its independence from the Empire and Talos would be restored in the pantheon of the Nine Divines. Also, the Empire swore a holy oath that they would never attack Skyrim again. Trade between Skyrim and the Empire was, of course, still allowed and every man and woman from Cyrodiil and other provinces controlled by the Thalmor would be free to visit Skyrim if their intentions would be peaceful. Also, the one who would be chosen as High King would have to marry an Imperial lady, to show the new friendship between the two sovereign states. After the signing of the treaty, which was dubbed _The Noble Concordat_ , a moot elected the Dragonborn as the new High King of Skyrim, the successor of Ulfric Stormcloak. He accepted this honor and he was crowned as King Rasmund the Dragonborn, the one who gave Skyrim its freedom. His reign marked the beginning of the Fifth Era. Rasmund eventually married Clara of Skingrad, a fair and compassionate woman, descendant of an illustrious line. From the first time he saw her, the Dragonborn fell instantly in love with her, and the feelings were reciprocated by young Clara. It was now the fifth year of the fifth era, or 5E 5…


	2. The Child Should Never Be Born

Rasmund looked at her and smiled as she was lying in their bed in the Blue Palace of Solitude. Her beautiful blond hair, almost as blond as his, her black eyes resembling two onyx stones, her soft skin, he loved everything. His queen was kind and generous and was almost revered by all of Skyrim, despite her Cyrodiil roots. But a shadow loomed inside the Dragonborn's heart. In the past five years, he and his wife tried everything in their power to conceive a baby but to no avail. A son would have made Rasmund even happier than he was and not only that, the boy would have been his heir, securing the future of his line and the throne of Skyrim with it. He left for the balcony that gave him a breathtaking view of the sea. The night was cold, as all Skyrim nights are. Rasmund looked at the sky. It was one of those rare nights when both Masser and Secunda were visible from Solitude, alongside the beautiful auroras. The Dragonborn then turned his eyes towards the water and he started to count the ships that entered and exited the mouth of the river Karth. His moment of peace was interrupted by his queen, who approached him.

"My love, are you sad?"

The Dragonborn smiled:

"I tried to move slowly as to not wake you from your sleep. It seems I have failed."

She kissed him passionately:

"I have something to tell you, my love!"

"What is it?"

"Yesterday, I felt a bit… weird. I thought it was nothing, that I was just tired but then I tried to eat and I could not keep anything down."

"My dear… Is it something serious? Why didn't you tell me?"

"This is why, because you're always worried about me. Let me finish, my love."

"Of course!"

"So, I went straight to Nelacar. He said…"

"What did he say?"

Nelacar was an Elven mage who was exiled by the College of Winterhold. He helped the Dragonborn years ago to recover Azura's Star. Even though Rasmund didn't give him the Star, after becoming High King, he asked Nelacar to become his court mage and the personal healer of the royal family, a position he accepted.

"Well… He said I am with child!"

"What… how… My love!"

"Yes, I am surprised too. Nelacar said that a child grows inside me, can you imagine that? Our child!"

If he wasn't afraid that he would hurt his wife, the Dragonborn would have Shouted his joy to be heard from Solitude to Lilmoth, from Daggerfell to Necrom. Instead, he took her in his arms and carried her to the bed.

"My queen… I swear to you I will never leave your side, and our son will grow to become a strong warrior and a good king for the people of Skyrim."

"And… what if it's a girl?"

"She would be the prettiest queen Skyrim will ever have!"

They fell asleep in the arms of each other. After so much fighting, after so many years of war against dragons, against vampires, against Miraak, against Thalmor, Rasmund had for once a bit of joy in his life.

The fact that the queen was pregnant spread like wildfire in every corner of the kingdom. In the following months, every Jarl sent the most lavish of gifts to the royal couple, while the Companions of Jorrvaskr feasted each and every night in their mead hall. Even the Thieves Guild of Riften sent their own gift to the King of Skyrim: a set of golden lockpicks. Rasmund understood the meaning of the gift and smiled, reminding of the days of old. Also, representatives from the Empire and even Morrowind arrived in Solitude to congratulate Rasmund and Clara. The Dragonborn was a member of House Telvanni, after all, inducted by Neloth, the mage he worked for in Solstheim. One evening, the two royals discussed in their room:

"You see, my love, he isn't even born yet and still, everyone celebrates his existence."

"I see, my queen. I am so happy! You made me so happy!"

"Nonsense. YOU made me happy. Without you, this wonder that grows in me couldn't have existed."

"Maybe I had my own small contribution!"

"It was not that small…"

The two of them laughed but their joy would be interrupted by a booming sound, heard by the entire capital of Skyrim, a sound that was very familiar to Rasmund:

"Dovahkiin! Dovahkiin!"

Clara frowned, looking at her husband's concerned face:

"Is this…"

"Yes. The Greybeards summon me to High Hrothgar."

He dressed quickly, packed a few things, such as food, potions and weapons and before dawn, he would leave for the Throat of the World.

It was a long journey, but in every village or town he stopped, the Dragonborn was treated almost like a god, with wine, food and never ending celebrations. Days later, he eventually arrived before the gates of High Hrothgar, the citadel of the Greybeards, masters of the Voice and worshippers of Kynareth. Rasmund entered the large castle and found it surprisingly empty. Even though it was populated by only four monks, someone should have greeted him. After almost an hour, Master Arngeir arrived to meet the Dragonborn:

"Greetings, Dragonborn. Welcome back to High Hrothgar!"

"Master Arngeir. I'm glad to see you in good health."

He bowed before his teacher. However, the Greybeard's face was stern and cold:

"Dragonborn, we have summoned you here to discuss with you a matter of utmost interest to you."

"Of course, Master. What happened?"

"It's…about you and the child that lies in your wife's womb."

Rasmund's face darkened. What would the Greybeards have anything to do with his unborn baby?

"What of the child?"

Arngeir's response was a shocking one:

"The child should never be born. He will bring chaos and destruction upon the world!"

That moment, Rasmund felt the need to Shout Arngeir into Oblivion but he knew that the wise Greybeard would never tell him such a thing without a reason.

"Master… It's… my child. You can't really tell me something like this, can you?"

"I know, Dragonborn, but know this: before we summoned you here, we had a vision, a vision sent by Kynareth herself. We never had such premonitions, all four of us at the same time. We saw a shadow leaving queen Clara's womb and engulfing the entire Tamriel. This shadow brought upon each province only fire and war. He must not see the light of day!"

"No more! I will hear no more! Master, this vision of yours, it may not be Kynareth. There are many other entities that can produce such images and even implant them in the mind of even the most powerful and wisest men. Maybe the Prince of Madness himself played a trick on you! The Daedra…"

"It wasn't from the Daedra, Dragonborn. Do you think us so feeble as to fall into Sheogorath's traps? Besides, we have means to detect if visions are sent from the Aedra or the Daedra. It was sent by Kynareth herself, Dragonborn. If it was a Daedric trick, we wouldn't have summoned you here."

"Then… What can I possibly do to, I don't know, prevent this chaos and destruction from happening, apart from killing my own son?"

"Nothing. We thought of everything, but the vision was clear. Here, Dragonborn. This vial contains a potion. Feed it to your queen and the child inside her will be expunged from her body painlessly. It's the least that we can do."

Rasmund was angry beyond any imagination. The Greybeards concocted that poison and they had the nerve to give it to him to kill his own son? A son! Now, he knew he will have a son, a boy! However, the Dragonborn knew that if the Greybeards were so convinced, something must be really wrong. He hoped however he would prevent it without having to destroy his family.

"Fine… I will take your poison and kill my son with it. But never dare to summon me again here, ever!"

"I understand, Dragonborn. Farewell. Do what must be done in order to protect our continent. I weep for your pain but…"

"I don't need your tears."

With this, the Dragonborn took the vial from the Greybeard and left High Hrothgar, with his face darker than night.

Rasmund returned to Solitude after a few days and went straight to the room of his wife, Clara, who had in her hands something:

"My love! You returned!"

With a heavy heart, the Dragonborn kissed his wife.

"Yes… The Greybeards… They wanted my advice on a matter."

"About?"

"About finding new recruits for them to train in the Way of the Voice. It's a good idea. This is a great calling for a noble soul!"

"Indeed, it is! Here, look at this!"

Clara showed her husband a small, knitted blanket with a dragon model on it.

"Our baby will surely be happy to sleep in it! I worked at it for days!"

Seeing the blanket made the Dragonborn even sadder. In the pouch on his waist, a poison awaited to kill his son. But, also, seeing his wife's happy face gave him a new will to fight on. He went straight for the balcony and, hoping Clara wouldn't see him, proceeded to throw the vial in the river.

"My queen… I'm afraid I will have to leave again soon."

"Why and where, my king?"

"To the Imperial City. It would do good for our countries. I will personally invite the Emperor to visit Solitude after our baby will be born."

"Ah, the Imperial City… I'm so sad I can't travel. I would want so much to see it again…"

"Maybe next year, in the summer, my queen."

"I can't wait!"

After Clara fell asleep, the Dragonborn descended to the dungeons of the Blue Palace. He hated the fact that he had to lie to his wife, but his journey must be known only by him. Unlocking an iron door with a key only carried by him, the High King approached a large chest. He opened it with another key and retrieved one of seven books that were sealed inside. He opened the book and closed his eyes. In his mind, a vision of Solstheim was starting to take shape. The Dragonborn wanted to save Tamriel. But he also wanted to save his child. Maybe even more. And he was willing to travel to the ashen island to meet the master of those books once again, after so many years, the only one who possessed the knowledge to save his offspring, the ruler of Apocrypha, the Gardener of Men, Hermaeus Mora.


End file.
